Glass Roses
by Divine Demonic Assassin
Summary: She loves him. Even as she is now, cold and glass-like, she still loves him. She believed he was unhappy being with her and left so that he could become happy. Leaving a shattered heart with him. Now he has found her. Saying promises and words of love. Vowing to free and protect her. How can he though, when she is the one who chained herself to a demon of Hell? Oc main. OcxKurama
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own any characters or plot from Yu Yu Hakusho. Unfortunately.**

 **If at any point my Japanese is spelt wrong or mistranslated I welcome corrections.**

 **Thank you.**

 **DDA**

He's not here.

I slide out of bed, blood silk caressing my naked flesh. Rising, I slowly move toward our—no, His. Nothing has been 'ours' for some time now—balcony stopping in front of the windowed doors. My nakedness does not bother me, but nothing has recently. I push fingertips against the clear cage, ever so gently until my arm is fully outstretched and the door is open. Jack Frost whispers to me, gathering me into an embrace—He no longer holds me except for appearances and when He believes I am asleep—that prickles my skin and derives me of what little warmth I have left. I step out on the balcony, frozen stone beneath my feet, moving until I reach the railing. Snow crunches, cracks beneath my hands, I lean forward with my head down. Straw spun to gold slithers over my shoulders and curtains my sides. Dancing flecks of frozen water spin—dancing, spinning through the hoops He's given me—ever so slowly to the earth one story down.

"He's left again, hasn't he?"

The question—there is no question just fact—travels from in front of me. I don't bother to answer, but my hitching breath and tightened grip are all the answer needed. I keep my head bowed, refusing to meet the knowing gaze of my one confidant. Salt stings my eyes, forcing me to close them lest it spills over. A sigh of a hand upon my head makes my shoulders hunch, curling away from the truth.

"You know he won't be back soon."

He won't. He will stay out where ever He goes—away from me, away from disappointment—until dawn creeps along the horizon. Then He will walk in, undress, shower whatever perfume clings to Him away, crawl into bed, and hold me close. I won't confront Him—does He know I know?—but pull out an often used mask, slide it over myself. We will continue the day as though He stayed through the darkness, then when we lay in bed once more—Him clutching a once-shiny toy that has dulled with disinterest—He will believe I rest peacefully. Then He will be gone again. No whisper—of what? Hate, disgust?—no note, nothing.

"Are you going to accept my offer?"

The offer to take me away. Spirit me to some place that He will never find me—He would never look anyway—where I can breathe and place my mask in its drawer. There are no other options. No friends to turn to—He has ensnared them all—no family to call—He trapped them in his web—no one but the being in front of me. I have pushed these facts to the closet of my mind, now they spill out landing with sharp cracks, stabbing the floor. My knees waver, collapsing beneath the pain of loneliness. I still cling to the railing with weak fingers, my last hesitation. My last hope. But it too can no longer support me, falling to the carpet of snow that I sit in.

"Come, you will be better."

The hiss of triumph beneath the concern, feeling the smirk. This being cares no more for my well being than a snake a mouse. But the mouse is lost, seeking the feeling of another life. Even the treacherous embrace of the snake will do. Phantom pressure lifts my head, sun bright blackened silk falling back.

"Look at me, little mouse."

I silently tell Him my love once more. How I still love Him after all the pain He has caused is a question I will never be able to answer. Lashes unveil summer time blue. The clear, bright sky meets the smudged, dark fires of Hell. That is the last that I see. A single tear falls from my eye, a conquering sharp toothed smile from the being's face.

 _Anata wo aishite imasu Minamino Sūichi_.

I love you, Sūichi Minamino.


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own any characters or plot from Yu Yu Hakusho. Unfortunately.**

 **If at any point my Japanese is spelt wrong or mistranslated I welcome corrections.**

 **Thank you.**

* * *

 _5 years after…_

Koenma sits behind his desk, fingers clasped white. The binky rests on the desk, glowing softly with the prince's spirit energy. The teenage body reaches over the item—hand white, shaking—to grasp the folder with the information regarding the case the Spirit World can't handle on its own. He flips through once more—please let this be a mistake—hoping, praying that he misidentified the main suspect. Pausing at the woman's picture—short hair, yellow eyes, scars freckling the pale skin—he is forced to confirm to himself that the woman is indeed who he believes. None of the people/demons Botan leads to his office will be pleased about this.

The overly large doors slide open silently to end in a crash against the office walls. Koenma jumps, nearly dropping the folder—not yet, not yet!—with a yelp of surprise. "Yusuke!" Chocolate eyes glower at the man before them. "Do you have any idea how loud you are?! This is a work environment—"

Cut off. "Yeah, yeah, I've hear it all before. Whaddya want, Binky-face? I have a date with Keiko set up tonight and she's gonna _kill_ me if I'm not on time."

The brown haired demi-god takes a deep calming breath, forcing a professional façade. "You're going to have to cancel, Yusuke. This is updated information on the recent soul-slave ring case. There have been new suspect identified—"

"So let Kurama—"

"—and I have reason to believe that the woman is Kurama's missing fiancé: Kobayashi Maika."

"…Bullshit."

The reaction is an expected one. Thankfully the least violent of what Koenma anticipated. "Yusuke, I have run the soul energy of the two women through thousands of tests. These women," two very different women appear on the giant television, "are the same. Kobayashi Maika has become partially demonic and now works for the _yōkai_ that is running the soul-slave ring we are after. I brought you in alone so that you can attempt to retrieve her by yourself. I don't want to involve Kurama if it isn't absolutely necessary." Self-preservation is a powerful thing.

The Makai Lord runs a hand through his slicked back hair. Koenma knows the struggle that the former detective goes through; betray his friend's confidence to not get his hopes up, protecting him? Or tell his friend and then watch as the false information destroys him? Yusuke snaps his hand sharply through the air, a shimmering portal appearing next to him. The demi-god says nothing, lips thinning with a serious nod of acknowledgement.

"You damn well better hope you're wrong, Koenma." Short, gelled hair grows long and wild, a king's mane. Harsh symbols crawl across dark skin, defining coiled muscles. "If you're not, then Kurama's going to have a lot of questions." Primal near-black irises peer from the corners of hard eyes. "He's going to want answers. You better have something for him, he lost her once. He'll be dead before he would lose her again."

The Rekai prince says nothing, twining his fingers together and resting his lips against them. As his former detective takes a step into the portal, Koenma passes on a warning. "Be careful. If that is Maika, then she is very different from what you once knew. She's no longer human."

"Laureola."

I turn from the soul-slave before me, dismissing him without a word. He scurries away, eager to get out of my Lord's presence. I walk over to the demon that helped to mold me into what I am, gracefully bowing before him on one knee. I feel him studying me, taking in his most powerful, obedient creation to date. A clawed hand cups the side of my face—burning, it blazes, _hurting_ —lifting my head to look at him. Sickly yellow-orange eyes scan over my white flesh, a hideous grin of daggers spreads across scaled lips as whatever he sees pleases him. His hand tightens, talons drawing red blood—what remains of my humanity—as he pulls my face forward, lapping at the rivulets of life.

"Ah, my dear snowflake. It has come to my attention that two of the demi-god's lackeys head our way. Apparently they come to stop my brother's profits, destroy one of his houses, and take you from us." Daggers dig into my neck, spilling more humanity as the forked tongue scrapes against vulnerable flesh. "Now, I think that we should give him a greeting worthy of the 'Lord' that he is, hm? I believe that the human boy comes with him as well. Won't you be glad to see old friends, my dear?" Dripping lips and teeth fill my view. "Now, tell me what you know. I wish to be able to greet them properly."

Scorching fire, a vicious force thrusts itself into my mind, ripping and dragging every bit of knowledge of this team to the forefront of my thoughts. Personalities, weaknesses, talents, appearance. Everything that I know is free for his use. He will twist and use this information to break the men that come to stop him. He will lie and spread seeds of doubt from his deceptions. Once he is done with my mind, the demon flings me away, licking the last of the blood from his talons.

"Go to Deception. I will join you later. These fools don't know who they are dealing with." An untamable Beast grins broadly in anticipation. "This is going to be fun. Leave."

I rise and turn, making my way to the portal that connects this house to the house of Deception. My life begins to dry against my skin and clothes, cracking and causing mild discomfort. It is easy to brush this sensation aside as the portal swallows me, whipping me from the Breaking House to the Deception House. I land just outside the entrance doors, a crater forming in the land beneath me from the force. Standing, I twist my wrist sharply, summoning one of the many enslaved souls to my bidding. A voluptuous spirit-slave—more than likely a whore when she lived—hurries to my side, bowing deeply. I flick my middle and index fingers, signaling that she is to clean me and gather me new clothing. The damned spirit goes to do as I command, opening the house doors for me while signaling to the other soul-slaves that I have arrived. Walking forward, my left pinky jerks sharply toward my palm—hands are my voice when my Voice is missing—and the soul-slaves jump to prepare the entrance hall for their Master and his guest.

Once I am in my private rooms, the voluptuous spirit-slave that first responded begins to undress me. The water is hot—scalding, scorching, _too much heat_ —feeling as though lava flows over my skin. She quickly washes my body—all the soul-slaves know how the baths burn and blister my skin—making sure that I am spotless before helping me out. As she finishes drying me and begins to work on my hair another enslaved soul appears in my rooms.

"My lady. The Lord and his companion are here. Shall I tell the others to direct them to the dining room?"

I glance at the teenage soul before shaking my head and flicking my thumb and pinky of my right hand, then curling the ring and middle fingers of my left hand toward my palm.

"The throne room? Right away. How long shall you be?"

Two taps on the vanity with my right ring finger.

"Half an hour. Very well."

He leaves and my first slave lays out the clothes that I will wear. The light teal dress falls to the floor, leaving my collarbone and shoulders bare. The sleeves start midway down my biceps, splitting in the middle to fall on either side of my arms. A blue-black snowflake is clasped around my throat, matching the brand on my thigh. Navy boots are pulled onto my feet and calves, giving me extra inches of height. Lighter blue lipstick is carefully drawn on with matching eye-shadow. Navy gloves are delicately tugged over my hands, stopping inches after my wrist.

My appearance is acceptable; I sharply twist my wrist indicating that she has done well and that I have no need of her assistance any longer. She bows, dissipating into the air and I allow my body to break into slivers of ice and snow—sharp, bitter pain—using this to get to the throne room as quickly as possible. The Mazoku Lord from my memories was not patient; I doubt that 1,826.21 days have changed this. I arrive in the throne room in a flurry, piecing myself together.

This will be the first of multiple interactions with the former Spirit Detectives. Much of how smoothly my Lord Master's plan goes hinges upon this meeting. So, as I take in the shock and pain of the human and _yōkai_ , I have an enslaved soul—my own Voice—speak for me.

"Kuwabara Kazuma. Urameshi Yusuke. Her Lord Master apologizes that he is unable to greet you personally. Please accept this slave's most humble apologies and allow her to entertain you until his brother arrives."

When the sudden snow had appeared, Yusuke had begun charging up his Spirit Gun. When a person had formed from it, he casually hid his glowing hand in his pockets. The woman who stands before him and Kuwabara is white, nearly blindingly so. Not in the sense of race, but actual color. Her lips are icy blue and bright yellow eyes that reveal nothing to either Detective. Her hair is a dark blue—navy?—and perfectly curled.

A spirit—soul, ghost, what-the-fuck-ever—materializes next to the white woman, looking like a younger Maika—the similarities hurt his chest. The woman begins flashing her hands through many signs—quick, efficient, practiced—and the spirit speaks in a voice that twists his guts and scratches his throat. A voice that not one of his friends and family have heard in five years.

"Kuwabara Kazuma. Urameshi Yusuke. Her Master apologizes that he is unable to greet you personally. Please accept this slave's most humble apologies and allow her to entertain you until his brother arrives."

Yusuke opens his mouth to respond with a snarky come-back; Kuwabara cuts across with, "Maika? Maika- _chan_ , is that you?" His voice is hopeful and cracks with suppressed hope. The orange-haired man takes several steps forward, a heartbreakingly optimistic expression.

More hand signs. The transparent girl speaks in that same voice again. "Maika? There was once a Maika here, but she is gone. This one is Caecitatis Laureola." The solid woman swoops in a deep curtsey. "Her sincerest apologies."

"Who's the kid next to you?" Yusuke rocks forward—tense, prepared, _eager for a fight_ —trying to see Maika in the _yōkai_ before him. He can't see any similarities…His eyes zero in on a six-pointed star shaped scar on the woman's shoulder. Maika had the exact same scar in the exact same place. Could it be like Koenma said…?

"She is Maika. What is left of her. This slave is what Maika has become, that is what Maika was." The woman is clinical and detached. Her explanation makes no sense, but somehow explains everything at the same time. The transparent girl smiles, waving at the detectives in recognition. "Her Lord will be arriving shortly." As the words are spoken a blast of heated air slams the doors behind Yusuke and Kuwabara open.

The Lord turns casual, not betraying his inner panic. The energy of this _yōkai_ is huge, swelling and filling the room in an uncomfortable heat. This _yōkai_ is the most disgusting, hideous thing the former detective has seen in some time. Clearly male, the being stands at least seven-and-a-half feet tall with curling, spiked horns giving him another two feet. His skin is red, lumpy, sores that ooze poison and unnamable things cover him from head to toe. Black, broken bat-like wings hang awkwardly from the creature's back, ripped off and stitched on again. Claws the length of Yusuke's forearm click against the statue beside the being, slowly disintegrating and chipping the stone away.

"Lord of Tourin! I do hope my brother's little pet has been good company. She can be so bland sometimes." The creature's voice is high and gravelly, gleeful and threatening, grating against Kuwabara and Yusuke's instincts like a cheese grater. "I will admit thought, I am rather proud of my little snowflake. Our most powerful and obedient creation to date." The being gives a hideous smile, no visible lips to hide the jagged, foul teeth bared.

"No, no. She's been plenty of fun. A little chilly, but," tanned, marked shoulders shrug, "she is an ice _yōkai_." The Mazoku leans against the wall, sweat trickling down his back. "So, who are you? And what are you? You don't look like any _yōkai_ I've ever seen."

Horrible, shrieking laughter spills from the creature's mouth, bouncing through the room in echoes—oh god stop, stop, _make it stop_!—even after it has finished. Rancid yellow eyes focus on Yusuke's as the being takes its clawed hand and places it on the white woman's collarbone. "Did you here that, little snowflake? He thinks I am _yōkai_! Why don't you inform him of what I _really am_?" Sickeningly the bones and flesh give way beneath the oozing hand.

Laureola gives no sign that she has felt this abuse—is it common for her to be hurt?—but Yusuke must hold Kuwabara's arm to keep the idiot from charging the being. She curtsies again. "Of course, her Lord." She takes several steps toward them. "This slave's Lord is not _yōkai_. He is _akurei._ Her Lord Master is Abdiel. Her Lord standing before you is Cresil. Her Lord is also Belial."

Filthy claws puncture pure flesh with a disgusting cracking, sucking noise. The fingers wiggle and squirm beneath her skin, hooking themselves around her collarbone. The sight is sickening, neither Yusuke nor Kuwabara have been witness to such intentional—senseless—violence. " _What else, Laureola? You didn't tell him what we do._ " The voice is now hissing, glass shards ripping into the Mazoku and psychic's brains.

"This slave's most sincere apologies, her Lord. Her Lord Master is the Hell Lord of Slaves and Slavery. Her Lord Cresil is the Hell image of Impurity and Slovenliness. Her Lord Belial is the Hell Prince of Trickery and Deception."

" _Much better_." Cresil—Belial, what-the-fuck-ever—lifts the foul hand that is entrenched in Laureola's chest. He breaks her ribcage apart, showing her inner organs, before flinging her across the room. There is a sound of bone giving way to stone, piercing skin as the female _yōkai_ connects with the wall before lying limp in a growing lake of blood. "My dear brother Abdiel has offered to loan you her for a while. After all," Cresil's grin grows impossibly wide, "you'll need all the help you can get trying to stop us." The screeching laugh is back, nearly drowning out Yusuke's shout of "SPIRIT GUN" as the demon disappears in a twister of fire.


	3. Chapter 3

**I do not own any characters or plot from Yu Yu Hakusho. Unfortunately.**

 **If at any point my Japanese is spelt wrong or mistranslated I welcome corrections.**

 **Thank you to valeries26, randomvirus, SilverKitsuneGrlAngel, AutumnKrystal, Torrid Venom, and .you.519 for following this.**

 **If there is something I should take out, put in, tweak, change please share your thoughts and ideas.**

Koenma sweats beneath the composed, mildly curious stature of the fox. The red haired man appears calm—lies, enraged, cold viciousness—however, anyone can taste the tang of menace that lies beneath. Hiei—the potential for violence has always been there—leans against a wall nearby, eyes closed as he ignores both of the room's other occupants. Koenma swallows, shuffling folders and loose papers on his desk, trying to look busy and not at all apprehensive. The Prince has chosen his more adult age, knowing that he would be better able to defend himself in this form. His hands tremble, cursing he clenches them tightly.

He looks over at the fox avatar, smiling anxiously at the raised eyebrow. Kurama has become much darker since Maika had been taken. He fully accepted the _yōkai_ soul within his body, making him much more dangerous and primal than before. The manipulator has used—still using, forcing, _breaking_ —every possible informant and power to find his lost fiancé. Koenma never had the courage or heart to tell the man that his fiancé had left him willingly. Another instance of self-preservation.

A portal rips open in the middle of the Prince's office, swirling and sparking. A blue haired woman rushes through—disgust, horror, mourning—covering her mouth with her kimono sleeve. She is unnaturally pale, sickly, as tears and sobs are muffled by her clothes. Kurama, Koenma, and Hiei all move to a different position; Hiei and Kurama are prepared to attack, while Koenma stands in trepidation, grasping the edge of his desk hard enough to bruise.

First comes Kuwabara, soaked in blood—dripping, drenching, _drowning_ —with haunted eyes. None of the blood is his, that much is clear, but he is pale enough for the mistake to be made. The two _yōkai_ in the room inhale the scent—soft, bitter, petals in the wind—immediately recognizing the smell.

The rose before has gone, in its place is precious metals that glitter ominously. Before the transformed avatar can move through the portal, however, Yusuke finally steps through, carrying a limp body. Bangs cover the Mazoku's eyes as he lays the once intact—now a mass of mutilated flesh—body on the couch. He stands there, blocking everyone from the sight, before stepping away to reveal the disfigured remains.

What skin is not covered in blood is white to the point of death. A once-beautiful dress drips pearls of the body's life on the floor of the after world, covering only the legs. The garment may hide the details, but bone can be seen awkwardly, _unnaturally_ , twisted around. The woman's chest has been split open—attempting to separate ribs from spine through the front—creating a cavern where it is still attached by the collarbone. Leaking organs are easily seen—oh no, oh gods, _please no more_!—still and unmoving.

Koenma has saved looking at her face for last, terrified of what he might see. It is surprisingly unharmed, skin without blood. Bones without pain. Sun yellow eyes sightlessly gazing at the ceiling before them. Robin blue lips slightly parted—gasping? Screaming? _Crying_?—in the midst of breathing. Cobalt hair is perfectly curled, the purple ends that make Koenma gag when he realizes that the color is from her blood.

The young god can feel himself bleeding, little crescents forming in his palm. Everyone is silent, watching the silver fox move to kneel beside the body, heedless of the life source staining his clothes. Gently clawed fingers reach to stroke away hair that has fallen on the unseeing face. The _yōkai_ murmurs to the body—sweet, soft, full of promise—before placing a kiss on the corpse's forehead. The multi-millennium old fox stands, turning to Koenma.

The Prince swallows, placing his hands palm up on the desk. He knows that this encounter is not going to end well for him, for anyone. He trembles as Yōko tilts his head back to stare the prince down with stained golden eyes. "Kurama—"

" _You are her murderer. You will suffer for this, god-ling_."


	4. Chapter 4

**I do not own any characters or plot from Yu Yu Hakusho. Unfortunately.**

 **If at any point my Japanese is spelt wrong or mistranslated I welcome corrections.**

 **Thank you to valeries26 and randomvirus for following me.**

A breeze brushes across my heart, giving a slight tickling sensation.

Wait.

That's wrong. My heart should not feel air.

White panels of ceiling swirl into focus before me, steadying after a moment. I blink several times, soothing the burn of a long period of staring. I twitch my hand—attached, working, not in pain—feeling something soft beneath it. There is loud noises of fighting surrounding me, I ignore it in favor of assessing my body's damage. Something crashes near me, I pay it no mind as I discover that my legs are damaged. I need to see what has broken in my chest, more shouting and breaking in the background reminds me of fighting _yōkai_ and lesser demons.

I push myself up, feeling a squelching noise beneath my hand as I apply pressure to the furniture beneath me—the cushions have been drenched in my blood. Looking down I see that my ribcage has been brutally torn apart from my spine. So that is why I feel air against my heart, interesting. Moving so that I lean against the couch—pain, stabbing, sharp—I place both hands atop my bones.

There is a sickening popping, crunching sound as I force my chest into its normal position. The background clamor stops, I move my torso to make sure that I have set it right. My Lord Master does not like it when I set the bone wrong; he re-breaks it over and over until I am able to fix it perfectly when it happens again. My bones immediately begin knitting themselves together, missing chunks of flesh—muscles, nerves, tissues—fill themselves in. My organs rearrange themselves to their proper places. My legs have begun to heal themselves before I set them. I bend at the waist, forcing them to straighten into their proper positions, breaking the healing bones again. Satisfied that I am healing properly, I turn to survey the room's occupants.

Yōko Kurama: trusted advisor to Lord Yomi of Gandara, once hailed 'King of Thieves', at least three millennia old, was thought to be dead, blackmailed participant and victor of the Dark Tournament. A _kitsune_ soul merged with the body and soul of a human fetus and given the name Minamino Sūichi. His human time counts at twenty-seven years. Close relationship with mother Minamino Shiori.

Urameshi Yusuke: _yōkai_ Lord of Tourin, descendant of the late Toshin Raizen, formerly a Rekai detective, twenty-five years old, victor and unwilling participant of the Dark Tournament. He lives in the Ningenkai with a human wife named Urameshi Keiko formerly Yukimura, known to be two months pregnant.

Jaganshi Hiei: heir to Alaric currently ruled by Lady Mukuro, a 'Cursed Child' of fire and ice, approximately 649 years old, twin to Yukina of the Kōrime, also a victor and a more willing participant of the Dark Tournament. Lives in the Makai doing work for Mukuro, it is unconfirmed of their relationship.

Kuwabara Kazuma: human with strong psychic abilities, younger sibling to Kuwabara Shizuru, twenty-five years old, unwilling participant and a victor of the Dark Tournament. Claims love for Yukina of the Kōrime, twin to Jaganshi Hiei, works as a veterinary in the Ningenkai.

I spy Koenma and make the movement to stand, firm hands hold me down. Arms trace up to Yōko Kurama, gold quickly tracing—memorizing—my face. Trying to see where Kobayashi Maika became Caecitatis Laureola no doubt. However, who he looks for is no longer in this body. She stands beside him with a very sad, very pained expression. He is preventing me from introducing myself to my temporary Master and that is unacceptable in the terms of the Deal. I place my hand to the center of his chest—he brightens visibly—push him backwards with wind and ice, to where he slams into the opposite wall, crumbling around him. I will be punished for my insolence—this I know—but my Lord Master's orders were clear.

There are many shouts of concern and surprise; I ignore them in favor of introducing myself to my new Master. I make my way to him, sidestepping those who attempt to stop me. I fall to one knee before him, head bowed. My Voice places a hand on my back, translating my thoughts. "Prince Koenma of Rekai. Her Lord Master has bade this slave to serve you as your Slave until the time he collects her. Until such time you are now this slave's Master. Your desire is her command. Your word is her law. She is what you wish of her. She is what you seek from her."

There is silence before a roar of outrage—pain, hate, viciousness—Yōko moves to attack my temporary Master. I place the index and middle fingers on my lips, part them slightly, and gently blow out air. My Master has not given me leave to move or hurt this male, but I must protect him to the best of my ability anyway. My breath forms a thick wall between the _yōkai_ and Rekai Prince, freezing the air. Yōko strikes the wall, claws scraping with a screeching. More insolence to be punished for.

I feel the room's occupants' eyes on me, reassessing my abilities and skill. My Master gapes down at me, stunned by my actions. I once again drop my head. "Forgive this slave, Master. She has moved without your permission as well as using force against one that is above her station. She awaits the desired punishment."

"N-no. Um, there is no punishment. Please stop looking at the floor." Prince Koenma's voice is stuttering and uncertain.

I tilt my head back to look at his chest; slaves are not allowed to look into their Master's eyes. I am vaguely confused by his words, but it is not my place to question him. "Of course, Master. Forgive this slave for her impudence."

"No-nothing to forgive. Er, stand up will you? I have questions that need to be answered." His voice is more confident toward the end, still hesitant and shaky nonetheless. I stand, moving toward him to stand to the side as he sits at his desk. "Tell me exactly what is going on."

I am uncertain as to what he refers to, signing to my Voice. She appears, speaking as my hands bend and turn. "This slave apologizes for not understanding what you mean, Master. She begs forgiveness as she asks for you to elaborate."

"Oh, um, right. First, who is the girl next to you?"

"She is uncertain how to explain but this slave will attempt. The girl beside her is what remains of 'Maika'. Maika had made a Demon Deal to empty herself of her heartbreak and for her fiancé not to be able to find her. In exchange, Maika was to become bound to Lord Master Abdiel for whatever he desires as long as she lives. In order for her to be free from the heartbreak, the essence that is Maika was removed. For her fiancé to be unable to find her, the body that was human became that of an ice _yōkai_. Thus, this slave is the combination of an ice _yōkai_ and the leftovers of Maika's soul. What was removed is what stands beside this slave now. That is Maika and holds this slave's Voice. This slave has been named Laureola Caecitatis and holds the Body of the Voice."


	5. Chapter 5

**I do not own any characters or plot from Yu Yu Hakusho. Unfortunately.**

 **If at any point my Japanese is spelt wrong or mistranslated I welcome corrections.**

 **Thank you to valeries26, randomvirus, and SilverKitsuneGrlAngel for following this.**

Yusuke clenches his hands, hiding growing claws. Laureola _is_ Maika, but not anything like the gentle human that they had all known. This person before them is drained of color and feeling. As she speaks, the Mazoku dares to glimpse at her former fiancé.

Yōko is clearly at the reigns, beast just barely contained within the humanoid skin. The fox stands still, too still to allow Yusuke the illusion that Kurama is anywhere near the surface. The silver _yōkai_ keeps his gold gaze on Laureola, hands flexing with an unidentifiable urge. He has made no move to summon his plants, the amount of rage clearly preventing the fox from using the calculating intellect that is so valued on the team.

The _yōkai_ Lord is unsure of how to react. This woman has none of the qualities that connect her to Maika, but she _is_ Maika. He does know to keep an eye on Yōko; if it comes to it Yusuke will restrain his friend, temporarily. They need to find out how to free the _yōkai_ 's former fiancé before any action can be made. Hopefully Pacifier-Breath will use his brain and not make an insensitive comment that further infuriates Yōko. Unlikely, but one can always hope.

"Do you know who everyone in this room is, Laureola?" Koenma has picked his words carefully for once. Yusuke thanks whatever higher being made that happen.

"Yes, Master. This slave knows who each male is. Her other Master has gathered much intelligence on this realm and its more dangerous inhabitants." The snow-skinned woman has no infliction to her voice. The spirit next to her clearly speaking as how Laureola would if able.

"Ah, of course. Now," the Prince clears his throat, Yusuke narrows his eyes with the gut feeling that the moron is about to say something stupid, "as you have, er, been _given_ to me as a slave—"

"God damn it, Koenma!" The Mazoku lunges forward with Kuwabara, restraining their comrade from attacking the Rekai Prince. Yusuke strains against the strength Yōko's fury, keeping the fox's arms locked against his back. "Fucking hell, couldn't you have thought that sentence through a little bit?!"

Rightfully, the brunette's teenage form pales, cowering behind his desk. "R-right. Um, Laureola, I need you to go with my Detectives as they continue their investigation."

As the snow woman responds with, "As you desire, Master." Yōko snarls, straining against Yusuke's hold. She turns her yellow eyes upon them, appearing to assess the situation. "Yōko- _sama_ , if you attack this slave's Master she shall be forced to retaliate. She cannot allow harm to come to her Master if she is able to prevent it. She does not wish to fight Yōko- _sama_ , but there will be no other path for her to take if he assails her Master. She will accept any punishment you wish to deliver her afterward."

Though Yusuke hates how Laureola speaks about herself, her words have the desired effect. Yōko stops straining against the Mazoku's hold, growing very still. The Makai Lord doesn't release his friend quite yet, unsure as to whether the woman's words fully processed through the male's brain. The fox makes no move for several moments, allowing Yusuke to—hesitantly—release him.

"B-Botan has the rest of the information for you. You'll be staying at Genkai's for now." Koenma is looking distinctly terrified and properly remorseful. "Listen to Genkai while you're there; err, what should I call you?"

The snake-eyed woman blinks, head tilting slightly to the side. "Forgive this slave's ignorance, she does not understand what you ask. This slave will respond to whatever you wish to call her. Her Lord Master calls her Laureola."

"Right then. You'll be called Laureola. Now leave, I need to get back to work." Koenma waves them off, a portal opening to Genkai's. Yusuke waits for everyone to go through, keeping an eye on Yōko though the fox's rage seems to have been temporarily contained. His former boss seems confused. "Yusuke? Is there something I can help with?"

The Mazoku Lord narrows his eyes. How can this god-like boy not have a better grasp on what a situation is? Damn toddler. "Watch what you say, Koenma. I might have been able to stop Yōko today, but I don't know if I can do it repeatedly. Hiei won't stop him; the short bastard is actually fond of Maika. Hell, he's probably itching to go after you too. You better find a way to fix what has been done."

"I've been looking into it since I was aware of her change into an _yōkai_. I've never encountered something like this. It'll take a while for anything to be found." Koenma appears his few hundred years for once, hands a steeple in front of his mouth.

"Good. We'll see you later, Binky-Breath." Yusuke steps into—through—the portal, breathing deeply at the familiar air. Eyes closed, head tilting back the Makai Lord lets his power push through the air in widening circles, checking the status of Grandma's land. Everything is like he left it. A heavy sigh, he opens his eyes, head comes back down, the Mazoku begins a slow walk to the temple. Until this case is over, he feels that no one will sleep soundly if at all.


	6. Chapter 6

**I do not own any characters or plot from Yu Yu Hakusho. Unfortunately.**

 **If at any point my Japanese is spelt wrong or mistranslated I welcome corrections.**

 **Thank you to valeries26, randomvirus, SilverKitsuneGrlAngel, AutumnKrystal, Torrid Venom, and .you.519 for following this.**

 **If there is something I should take out, put it, tweak, change please share your thoughts and ideas.**

* * *

 _Seven years before…_

 **"Maaaiiiikaaaa."**

 **Incoherent muttering.**

 **"Maaaaaiiiiikaaaaa."**

 **Words that vaguely resembled, 'Fuck off' and 'Satan's spawn' were growled into a dark haired woman's pillow and blankets. The sleeping woman's roommate was attempting to wake her up and she'd be damned if she let her roommate win.**

 **"Maika. Get up." The blonde roommate's voice was now flat with irritation.**

 **"No." The darker woman's words were muffled, dragged an extra pillow over her head. Maybe if she ignored her roommate long enough the woman would take the hint and leave her alone. Like hell _that_ was going to happen, but one can always dream.**

 **"Maika, if you do not get up now—so help me God—I will hide the rest of the sugary breakfast foods." The blonde was pulling out the big threats.**

 **The brunette cracked one eye, glowering from beneath her makeshift cave. "Okanaya Akemi you better have a damned good reason for waking me up at," a quick glance at a bedside clock adds a growl to the woman's voice, "six o'clock on a weekend off or not even _God_ will be able to save you." Maika was—quite obviously, you'd have to be blind, deaf, and mute not to notice— _not_ a morning person. This was the first day off—no school, no work, no social obligations—the college woman had had in relatively long time; her annoyance at the situation was understandable.**

 **The blonde, Akemi, flapped her hand dismissive. "You'll love me for this in a moment. I just heard," she bent over, hand cupped over her mouth as if a secret, "that Minamino Sūichi and his sexy delinquent friend are going to be at Ying Yang Bistro helping Minamino- _san_ 's younger brother with a fundraiser today!" The blonde jumped, squealing, spinning in circles. "And we're going to go meet them!"**

 **There were several very long—dangerously so—moments of silence from the bed. The voice that eventually stalked from beneath the pillows and covers was one that would send Satan himself hiding in a closet. "What." There was no question, a solid, disbelieving statement of sleep-deprived fury.**

 **"I already signed us up to help out, you can't say no." The petite college student was backing toward the door. "We need to be there at seven o'clock to help get everything ready. _Youhaveonehourbye!_ " The last words rushed, Akemi bolted from the room, prepared to run from her friend's oncoming wrath.**

 **The dark haired woman sat up, pillows, blankets thrown haphazardly. The entire apartment complex—and some very baffled pedestrians on the sidewalk—heard the subsequent bellow. " _OKANAYA AKEMI!_ "**

 **At exactly seven o'clock, the aforementioned roommate was entering Ying Yang Bistro. The blonde was still finishing makeup in the car, Maika had no patience for such things normally, today was a bad day for someone to test that even further limited patience. Crossed arms, the brunette's stoic mask was attached by mere threads, violently twitching eye showing from the cracks. She spotted both Minamino and his apparently 'sexy' friend, standing toward the back chatting whilst others were taping posters and placing appropriately themed decorations—something American representing the eighth grade trip—on every flat surface. Her mission target marked, the sleep-deprived college student forcefully made her way to the men.**

 **Minamino was the first to notice her, sadistically amused smile unfolding. God knows why—the man _enjoyed_ tormenting the normally cheerful, sweet female into boiling rages. "Kobayashi- _chan_ , I am pleased to see you here." Gold swirled within emeralds. "Is Okanaya- _san_ here as well?"**

 **Maika held back—scarcely keeping the cracking mask—her brutal urge to gouge the laughing eyes with a rusted spork. " _You_." A vicious poke to the chest. " _You_ are the reason we're here." Normally happy, the voice hissed with enough venom to kill Tokyo. "When I get you alone so help me—"**

 **A timely intervention of a bubbly roommate prevented immediate bloodshed. "Sūichi- _senpai_! Urameshi- _kun_! We're super glad to be able to help out today! This will be so much fun!" Akemi popped next to Sūichi's friend, who seemed bemused at the interaction between Sūichi and Maika.**

 **"Okanaya- _san_ , I'm so pleased that you and Kobayashi- _chan_ were able to make it. I am sorry about the time, the café opens at eight and I wanted plenty of time to set up." The blood haired man turned his well-known gentleman charm on, Akemi swooning and subsequent roommate curling her lip. "Would you mind following me to the decorations? With your Art major I am sure that you will be able to masterfully help with designing the unfinished posters."**

 **The blonde was near hyperventilation as her long-time infatuation spoke to her, hands fluttered useless. Maika rolled her eyes, smacking Akemi's head with a folded fan that the dark-haired woman always carried. "Of-of course, Sūichi- _senpai_. Please, call me Akemi, Okanaya makes me sound old!" Cue nauseating giggling.**

 **A flash of perfect white teeth had the woman's head spinning once more. "If you insist." A handsomely muscled arm swept out to indicate the other side of the room where several eighth graders crowded around a table. "Shall we?" Gold flecked emeralds glanced over at the brunette woman, whose mood grew blacker with each passing moment. Sadistically teasing, the older male paused by her ear, hair carefully grazing Maika's face. "You'll have to remind me later, Maika- _chan_ , about us being alone. I'm certain we'll find time."**

 **The mask shattered, wrath unveiled. She whipped around to tell him to 'fuck off'; he was already over by Akemi and several other giggling girls. Violent storms for eyes spasm in the effort to _not_ be arrested this morning for homicide. "That fuck-mothering-son-of-a-two-cent-whore-fuck. I will _mutilate_ him."**

 **The forgotten man laughed, drawing the enraged female's attention. "Never seen Kur-uh, Sūichi act like that. Damn, what'd you do to grab his attention?" The black-haired chocolate-eyed man grinned easily, arms folded behind his head. "Oh. Name's Urameshi Yusuke. Don't really care for all the formality crap, Yusuke's fine."**

 **Couldn't help but grin along with the man, easily reminded of her best friend back in America. "The fuck if I know. I'm Kobayashi Maika, Maika's fine. Us Americans aren't all that big on honorifics." Calmer sea blue eyes winked. "I hear one more 'Kobayashi- _san_ ' and shit will go down. Except from Bloody Mary over there. _He_ can just leave me the fuck alone."**

 **Yusuke barked out another laugh, enjoying the woman's company. "Good to hear. Uh-oh. I think that glare is saying 'work-before-I-come-over-there'. K-Sūichi has a nasty death glare." Covered arms swung down, one wrapping around Maika's shoulders. "C'mon. I say we see how long we can get away with 'working' and sabotaging this shit before Sūichi comes over."**

 **More relaxed than usual when having to deal with Sūichi, slender arm hooked awkwardly around the taller male's neck. "You know. I believe that this could be the start of something diabolically grand." Mirror images of mischief upon their faces, Yusuke and Maika head over to an abandon box of decorations. "Oh. Oh this will be _fun_."**

* * *

I snap awake, snake eyes immediately adjusting to the lack of light. I turn to look at the young soul beside me. Translucent blue stares back, defiance bright. My gaze meets the soul evenly, neither of us speaking in the slits of moonlight. The dream—the memory—is the soul's doing, I know. Something hidden stirs within my emptiness, quickly—ruthlessly—suppressed into nothing. I close yellow eyes, resting in a meditative state, not wanting— _needing_ , so _desperately_ wanting—to relive the human. It always hurts—pain, too much, stop, _make it stop_ —to see the life lost. The specific reason escapes me, but I do not want more suffering than I have already been dealt. Tomorrow I assist the Rekai Detectives in their plot against my Lord Master. It will be interesting to see how they react to how they must gather my information.


	7. Chapter 7

**I do not own any characters or plot from Yu Yu Hakusho. Unfortunately.**

 **If at any point my Japanese is spelt wrong or mistranslated I welcome corrections.**

 **Thank you to valeries26, randomvirus, SilverKitsuneGrlAngel, AutumnKrystal, Torrid Venom, and .you.519 for following this.**

 **If there is something I should take out, put in, tweak, change please share your thoughts and ideas.**

 **Didn't quite end this how I would've liked, but I figured that an update was due.**

Genkai settles on her porch, cigarette lax. Eye catches sight of the former human, kneeling on the ground nearby. Though rare, Genkai has had dealings with former slaves—rescued psychics usually—this behavior doesn't bother as much as it should. The old psychic doesn't reach to pour the tea, instead a sharp, "Girl" gesturing to the tea set. There, enslaved _yōkai_ formally pours the tea, years of practice. Genkai's next gesture has the girl kneeling on the bottom step of the porch, bowing—where did the fire go?—supplicant. Hours yet before the others dare venture from the warmth of rooms, the two women remain as they are.

The pink-eyed woman catches sound of doors opening, feet shuffling, murmuring words. Though the morning's frost has begun to thaw, the sigh is still yet visible as the cup is set down. She raises a hand to prevent the girl—no, a woman. But the _wrong one_ —from again refilling. "Girl, the others are waking. Prepare tea and light snacks." Knows that whatever the girl—bright innocence, painful naivety, _where did it go_ —has to tell them will curl any appetite. "Reuse the same set."

Bows as low as physically possible. "As you say, Genkai- _sama_." Too fluid motions pick up, move to the kitchen. No sound from her feet, she is there and then gone. As what happened five years ago.

The oldest psychic takes moments—fury, pity—heading into the house. The voices from the kitchen draw her attention, change of direction. The Kōrime is attempting to take over the duties that the slave girl has been given orders to do. The buffoon and dimwit are backing up the Kōrime's argument. None have seen slavery—deep, nigh irreversible—at least not to the extent that has become the white skinned girl. "What are you doing, dimwit?" Genkai's voice attracts, the girl drops—pain, cracking, practiced—bowing to the older woman. "Answer me one of you." Silence irritates, eyebrow twitches. "Glacier," the girl. Genkai cannot call her Maika—she is _not_ —cannot call her whatever the hell the _akurei_ gave her. Another nickname, "tell me what is going on."

The slave woman immediately recognizes that 'Glacier' is what Genkai is going to call her; the old woman can tell as the bowing woman rises slightly off the ground. Cool, calm. "This one arrived at the kitchen as Genkai- _sama_ had ordered. She was starting the tea once more. Genkai- _sama_ 's honored guests appeared. The honored guests insist that this one need not work; this one is unable to comply with the honored guests. Genkai- _sama_ 's orders are to be obeyed over the honored guests'. This one begs Genkai- _sama_ 's forgiveness as she has not completed her work. This slave awaits her punishment."

"Enough. Urameshi, Kuwabara, Yukina, I want you out of the kitchen." Protests raise ire. "I said _OUT_." Power is an influence to the words, the gray-haired woman is not as she once was in power, the message is given. Genkai glowers at the trio until they leave, hover in the hall. "Finish what I told you. Bring everything once it is done."

"As you say, Genkai- _sama_." Ice _yōkai_ stands, maneuvers the cooking space with ease. Genkai cannot tell if it is because of faded memories from when Maika came here or if cooking is a task given to Glacier by her 'Master'.

Old psychic turns around, ignores the questions until the group reaches the dining room. Several others already gather in order around the table. "Sit." Her voice is the cracking whip that demands obedience. She waits to begin talking until everyone has settled into place.

"What the hell was that, Grandma?" The dimwit is nearly flooded with rage—indignation, fury about his powerlessness—glaring at her from sharpened eyes.

"I am going to explain this once and you all," pointed looks at several, "will shut the hell up and listen." Lights another cigarette. "That woman in there _is not Maika_. Maika is a long-faded memory in that woman's head. That woman is a slave, property. Your antics in the kitchen? Not acceptable." Protests start, are quickly silenced. "I have dealt with people like her before, they don't consider themselves anything more than a tool to be used and discarded. Any desire for freedom has long been beaten out of her, she is a shell. What you perceive as simple kindness will be taken as a reprimand of her doing something wrong. Back in the kitchen she _expected_ me to punish her for not being able to do what I instructed. I wouldn't, but kindness is something foreign to her."

Tense silence, little tears bounce against the table. Shizuru is the first to speak, draws deeply from the cigarette. "So, basically, any attempt to help her with anything is a no-go." At Genkai's terse nod the younger smoker continues. "I'm going to assume that she takes anything we say as the literal meaning of the words. Like, I say 'get out of here' in a joking manner, she will instantly be gone from my sight."

Pink-eyed elder nods, at least someone understands. Her attention is drawn to the tea cup now resting near her hand; habitually she had gone to reach for it though it was not there. Glacier holds a tray of tea and a tray of snack foods, managing not to spill though she kneels in a bow. Genkai closes her eyes briefly—hurts to see a precious person act as such, _so much pain_ —orders, "Serve the tea. Leave the food on the table."

"As you say, Genkai- _sama_." _Yōkai_ woman rests the tray with food at the center, begins serving tea in the same movement. She goes uninterrupted, Kurama grips her wrist as she pulls back from pouring. She is too well trained to question the man's movement, allow confusion to show.

Genkai has the feeling that the day will go much smoother if she gives into the fox's desire to be near Glacier. "You will sit with Kurama, Glacier."

The phrase 'As you say, Genkai- _sama_ ' makes not only the avatar tense, everyone else, relax as the enslaved woman doesn't move from her spot behind and to the side. Genkai watches as the man pulls the unresisting woman to sit beside him, encasing her within one arm. No expression, flicker of emotion, is to be seen, Genkai's heart breaks the slightest bit—bleeds, it bleeds, _why won't it stop bleeding_ —though she knows what to expect from the woman.

"Well? Let's get on with it, Grandma." Dimwit's interruption of the silent atmosphere is a welcome one. He is scolded by his wife—young, both so very young—while he hurriedly apologizes. Genkai snorts, possibly the most powerful being in three realms and the petite woman beside him makes him cower. Such irony.

"Well, what do you guys have? It can't be all that much, considering." Shizuru releases her brother from beneath her fist. She would keep the man under control, taking responsibility from the older woman.

"Near nothing. But that's what the woman is for." Hiei, cold, clipped, straight to the point. Sits at the table, a rare occurrence, scowling darker than ever. His blood red eyes refuse to look at Glacier, focusing on the wall next to the dimwit's head.


	8. Chapter 8

**I do not own any characters or plot from Yu Yu Hakusho. Unfortunately.**

 **If at any point my Japanese is spelt wrong or mistranslated I welcome corrections.**

 **Thank you to valeries26, randomvirus, SilverKitsuneGrlAngel, AutumnKrystal, Torrid Venom, and .you.519 for following this.**

 **If there is something I should take out, put in, tweak, change please share your thoughts and ideas.**

 **I managed to make this story even more complicated. Damn my Muse. If something isn't clear message me or review and I'll do my best to explain. I'm going back and editing the other chapters, this is the only new one for now.**

I keep my hands folded in my lap, bowing head. Hiei Jaganshi wants answers that I cannot give without leave of my current Master. As he is not here—my Lord made very clear that the Rekai Prince is to know everything—I am unable to give the answers he wishes. I fold myself into a bow—ignore the resistance of Yōko Kurama—silently asking for permission to speak.

"What is it, girl? Speak up." Thankfully Genkai- _sama_ correctly interprets my movement. "Enough bowing." Giving me permission to sit upright.

"This slave humbly begs your forgiveness, Hiei- _sama_ , for she can not speak of anything until Koenma- _dono_ is amongst you. Her Lord Master has decreed this. She willingly accepts any punishment Hiei- _sama_ deems fit for her disobedience." I sit upright after my explanation—Genkai- _sama_ has ordered such—against my instincts, carefully keeping my gaze upon the Cursed Child's hands.

"There is no punishment." Hiei- _sama_ 's voice is short. "Detective, call the damn Prince." His rage is a near-tangible thing, rising temperature welting my visible skin. I expected this—pain searing, lashing—though he said that there was no punishment. Experience has taught me that though a Master may say I am not to be punished it does not mean that they will not.

"Hiei, enough." Yōko- _sama_ 's voice is that of a displeased Master. "Your anger is hurting her, control yourself _now_." The _kitsune_ 's own power leaks from him, more the sharp edge of thorns. Yōko- _sama_ 's power rolls beneath his skin as he retracts his power, Hiei- _sama_ doing the same.

A portal opens; at once I prostrate myself, the Prince deserving nothing less than full respect. Hearing his footsteps near, I prepare myself for what he wishes. Flickering surprise when Koenma- _sama_ commands me to sit upright, start telling them what I know. I settle myself into the traditional seating position, hands tucked neatly in my lap. "This slave has been commanded to share her Lord Master's plans as long as the proper questions are asked. She can not give any information that does not specifically pertain to the question. She humbly begs forgiveness for the inconvenience this may cause."

"Of course. It couldn't have been as simple as you telling us everything you know." Prince Koenma sits cross-legged next to Genkai- _sama_. "What are the 'proper questions' we need to ask?"

My eyes focus on his chest, peripheral vision allowing me to watch the others' reactions. "There are criteria for what her Lord Master considers proper questions." I can not tell him what they are, he has not asked.

"What are these criteria?"

My Voice nods, excited that he has begun to understand the game my Lord Master wishes to play. My hands move quickly, if she needed to breath my Voice would run out of air. "There are six words, six phrases, six languages that each question must have: at least two words, one phrase, each question must be asked in the languages in the order given. Everything must be spoken as the form of a question. The six words are: souls, slaves, sentence _akurei_ , _akuma_ , absence. The six phrases are: what is, where it, why are, happening now, have there, how this. The six languages are: Japanese, Latin, Greek, Arabic, English, Spanish."

There is silence for several long moments. I am unsurprised that Yōko- _sama_ is the first to speak—first to decide upon a question—his millennia of knowledge would allow him to discover ways around the criteria. "What is the sentence for the souls taken?"

I level my gaze to his collar, my Voice is wistful. "Each soul has a different price to pay for what they sold their soul for. The sentence varies from case to case." My Voice forces a memory of Kurama upon me. Just two sentences, it stirs shades of emotions nonetheless.

 **"I** ** _do_** **, in fact, believe myself in love with you. Do** ** _you_** **believe yourself in love with me, Maika?"**

My Voice—the essence of Maika—has become determined to reclaim my—her—body and its corresponding emotions. She is still infatuated with Kurama, she regrets her decision to make a Deal. My Voice is deciding to fight back, whether or not she can win against the Deal agreed upon I can not speculate.

The next question is from the Rekai Prince, spoken in Latin. I can only assume that it is somehow translated for the humans that do not speak it. "Have there been absent souls that the _akurei_ cannot collect?"

My Lord Master watches from behind my eyes, I can feel his amusement sweep through me. "The only souls that her Lord Master cannot collect are those that have already been bound to another and those that have not yet died. Though her Lord Master is an _akurei_ , thus can not die nor age, her Lord Master prefers the human lifespan over the _yōkai_ ones." The Hell Lord picks what he wishes me to say, pressing his will upon my tongue. He eagerly awaits for when one of them slips up in the rules.

Hiei- _sama_ speaks in Greek, _yōkai_ have an innate ability to learn languages. "What is happening now to the souls that the _akurei_ have taken?"

Though there have only been three questions, his garners the most information. My Lord Master is pleased that foolish questions have not been asked yet. My Voice trembles, the will of the Hell Lord pressing upon her burns us both. "The souls that have demanded the most from my Lord Master are his slaves until he decides to free them from their Deal." It is unsaid, understood that the possibility of my Lord Master releasing a soul is next to none. "They do whatever he wills of them, they are tools for his amusement and collecting more Deals, thus more souls. The souls he has push the living into making decisions that will drastically shorten their lives, hurrying along the process.

"My Lord Cresil uses his souls to spread impurity and filth throughout physical-realm humans. My Lord Cresil has the souls steer the humans that have made Deals with him down a path of corruption. He enjoys assisting the work of his King in whatever way possible. He has the souls dirty the living world with filth and slovenliness. They cause the living to have more of an apathetic attitude toward their personal hygiene.

"My Lord Belial directs his souls into deceiving the living into doing his King's bidding. The souls are to falsify themselves in appearance and tone so that the living is more easily accepting of them. The disguise themselves as harmless ghostly children or deceased family members so that the living invite and welcome the disguised souls into their homes. From there My Lord Belial is granted access to the humans' lives and tricks them into following the path of his King."

The resounding silence is long, strained as each person digests what I have just revealed to them. Genkai- _sama_ is the first to speak. "Glacier, I believe this is going to require more tea. Refill this pot and bring two extras." She has gone through three cigarettes since I have begun speaking, a slight tremble as she lights the fourth.

"As you say, Genkai- _sama_." I rise from my seated position, bowing at the waist as I exit the dining room. My Lord Master withdraws to the back of my consciousness, waiting for me to return to the dining room before surging to the front once more. He is amused by the mortals that are attempting to form a plan against him, he wishes to watch and prod them along. Pour tea for each person, again I am encased within the arm of Yōko once finished. My Voice again pushes the memory from before into my mind, into a small part that even my Lord Master cannot access.

 **"I** ** _do_** **, in fact, believe myself in love with you. Do** ** _you_** **believe yourself in love with me, Maika?"**


	9. Chapter 9

**I do not own any characters or plot from Yu Yu Hakusho. Unfortunately.**

 **If at any point my Japanese is spelt wrong or mistranslated I welcome corrections.**

 **Thank you to valeries26, randomvirus, SilverKitsuneGrlAngel, AutumnKrystal, Torrid Venom, and .you.519 for following this.**

 **If there is something I should take out, put in, tweak, change please share your thoughts and ideas.**

Yusuke is oddly silent, listening to the woman. There is something off, decides as she leaves for the kitchen. Shimmer, shade of something overlapping her form. He ignores the murmuring of the others, rises. His arm is grasped by a petite—delicate, fragile, so fragile—hand, Keiko watches him, confused. He places his hand over her own, reassuring squeeze, lifts her hand away. The others watch him as he follows Laureola into the kitchen, ignores them to stand in the doorway.

The navy-haired woman immediately notices him, dropping to knees, bowing subserviently. Her voice—remnants of his friend—tears at the scabbing wounds of her disappearance. "Yusuke- _sama_ , how might this slave be of service?"

Shoves away the anger—disgust, rage, _uselessness_ —at himself. Shrugs, places hands in pockets, leaning against the doorway. "I don't need anything. Continue with what you were doing." The Mazoku begins to see what Grandma has been explaining, the woman before him has been beaten into a mold of slavery. She instantly stands, continuing her job of creating extra tea with no flicker of expression. He hates what has been done to her—himself for letting it happen never mind that she left—what is continuing to be done.

The outline is clearer now—blackish red, uneasy feeling—twisting, snaking around her form. It is like the other one he and Kuwabara met—Beesil? Cressol? Whatever—from what he can tell. Her 'Lord Master' if the Makai Lord is to guess anything. At this thought the shade of Hellish colors forms a head, eyes glow in poison yellow. It smiles, speaking to the _yōkai_.

" _I knew that you would see me,_ yōkai _son of Adam. You, who was closer than any other to her from before._ " The thing seems hideously pleased.

Hair rises on the back of Yusuke's neck, his instincts scream, throwing themselves away from the foul beast. For once the Mazoku is the prey, hunted—don't talk to it, don't talk to it, _don'ttalktoit!_ —it is not a feeling that he is comfortable with. "What do you want?"

It swirls in the air around the enslaved woman, eyes never moving. " _I want a great many things, child of Adam. For now I sate myself with the souls of your kin._ " It seems to be laughing—mocking, degrading—enjoying itself, enjoying his discomfort. " _You want a great many things, strange son of Adam. I can give them to you. Power, respect, even, perhaps, your friend's freedom._ "

"Yeah?" Yusuke spots the girl—Maika?—from before, shaking head wildly. She is pleading, begging for the _yōkai_ to not respond. She reaches for him, steps forward, hands outstretched.

The Hellish beast sees the child as well, a grin forming below the stationary eyes. " _Yes. I can give you what it is you desire. Your mate. She is a daughter of Eve, yes? She will die so much sooner than you. I can make her life longer, equal to yours_."

"You know how to hit a man's weak points; I'll give you that, Abby." Yusuke doesn't take his eyes away from the creature's. He knows that to do so would more than likely cost him dearly. The Mazoku's peripheral vision shows that the girl is moving ever closer toward him.

" _Oh, but I know more than that, strange son of Adam. I know of things that would make you cry in blood and rejoice in fire. Your gods have yet to answer your prayers, why not come to I who is so much closer than such beings?_ " A rancid, desiccating flesh smell spreads through the air, coughing, watering eyes.

Yusuke gags at the stench, worse than the Makai air by far. "Yeah, not interested. I tend to not trust things that have sharp teeth and smell like rotting road-kill."

The Beast laughs—stop it!—mouth stretching impossibly wide in a parody of joy. " _You think you're clever,_ yōkai _son of Adam. Admittedly, smarter than your brethren give you credit for. You may refuse me now, strange son of Adam, but my offer will become more desirable. Take as much time as you want, for what is time to one such as us?_ "

Chill crawls down the Makai Lord's spine, the demon disappears. Yusuke stands still, going over the creature's words—promise—until he blinks at the sight of navy haired woman before him. She bows deeply, keeping the tea from spilling. "Forgive this slave, honored guest, she requests to pass by to serve the tea."

"Wha-? Uh, yeah. Sure." The Mazoku steps aside, keeping careful eyes on the former human. She has no grudge against them, the creature seemed more amused than angry—which is more frightening—but he's going to take a page out of the paranoia book on this one. Yusuke is always eager to fight, but in the case…His guard is raised more than ever, if that _thing_ has been able to appear wherever and whenever at will…

Then they are very, very outclassed.


End file.
